


The Legendary

by Liana Mir (scribblemyname)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage to Appease the Gods, Fantasy, M/M, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/Liana%20Mir
Summary: It galled Braza that he shared the position of "best" with someone like Kier-Dan, who never looked at him unprovoked, but rivalled him in all things they both studied. Kier-Dan had made it clear when they were children that he didn't care about Braza's royal rank and he was going to gain his own military rank regardless. Neither of them want this marriage, but the gods must be appeased.





	The Legendary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).

The press of the crowds was beyond tolerating, but somehow the crowds tolerated it. They pushed and shoved and sweated and swelled and broke around the Great Way, bound by guards, which lead from the gates of Granavak—the great city at the heart of the Empire of the Four Suns—all the way to the palace complex and military barracks and fortress at the heart of Granavak.

They'd taken Ilat and Kalos, and hear tell, they'd taken the Merchant Empire that supplied those quarrelsome states with arms as well.

Then the regular beat of marching troops pounded the ground, and everyone pressed as close as they dared, considering the guards along the way.

It was practically a parade—their heroes coming home. The aranat, the sunborn, caught sight of the golden hair of their golden son and throats roared with the cry of "Braza! Braza!"

His armor and gauntlets were dark, but all the rest of him was as gold as the sunborn magic he wielded. He raised one arm, grin bright and fierce on his face as the cries grew stronger.

"Braza! Braza!"

The golden son had returned. The Lesser Prince of the First Circle of the Royal House, he'd devoted himself to war, on the path to become of the Legendary Generals of the Land of the Four Suns. And they loved him.

A groundswell murmured alongside the open-throated anthem to their prince.

The parashat, foreignborn they were called, though not all parashat had been born elsewhere, nor was every member of the trodden without the blood of the sunborn. Their murmur became a roar as the parade turned and twisted again, revealing the second of their rising commanders. "Kier-Dan!" The foreign name slashed through the air.

Braza turned in his chariot to see.

The bronze Haijarin, ever his rival, a glow of fire banked within his eyes. His hair was bronze, his skin was bronze, his spear and gauntlets were bronze, though his armor was as dark as Braza's, his rank currently the same. High Commander over a large company.

They'd taken the cities Ilat and Sahogonia and the land of Kalos. Saigiri, the third of the high commanders considered likely candidates to become the next Legendary Generals, was securing the new borders before her own triumphant return.

Kier-Dan did not raise his arm in victory but he looked out over the people as they claimed him with their adulation.

* * *

Most of the troops were remanded to the barracks, a massive plaza near the heart of the city but also stretching out with three arms towards the walls of the city and providing easy access for the changing of guards.

Most of the officers and certain of the High Guard retired to the Fortress, an ugly edifice of stone, unadorned with gilded metals or decoration. The Fortress was the original Granavak, heavily fortified, with sufficient room to house the first chieftain's family, his retainers, and his strong men and their families when the Empire of the Four Suns was still just the Clan of Nakor, the sun god, when the four strong sons of that chieftain had yet to conquer any surrounding territory or build a temple and a city to rival that of any other the world over.

To the officers trained from Kawusert and the noble houses both aranat and parashat to serve as commanders over all the armed forces of the Empire, the Fortress had become home, whatever estates or houses they eventually founded elsewhere.

Braza for one had been looking forward to the baths and scrubbing the grunge of a long campaign from his body, but scowled when he finally reached the coveted chambers and found Kier-Dan had already availed himself.

It was typical. Kier-Dan had always preferred the main bath and settled back in the corner, head leaned against an ancient stone headdrest, the water around him seething as though he were boiling in a pot.

Braza took one look at the amount of steam rising from the front of the pool and moved to the side bath. Where Kier-Dan ought to go if he was going to heat the water so much.

"Parashat," Braza snapped as he was stepping down.

Kier-Dan huffed the smallest laugh under his breath. He'd made it clear when they were children that he didn't care about Braza's royal rank and he was going to gain his own military rank regardless. He didn't say anything now or honor Braza with a reply.

* * *

They'd met in the Kawusert, the school for royalty, nobility, and hostages of the conquered nations and peoples the Land of the Four Suns had added to itself. Braza had never asked quiet, fierce Kier-Dan what people he was from or what nation he represented or what place in their hierarchy he occupied. He'd never had to. Kier-Dan was foreignborn and Braza was sunborn, and the only thing that mattered to a student in Kawusert not bound to rule the nation was how well they performed.

And that is why he hated Kier-Dan, one of few who could outstrip Braza in battle enough times to be noticed. Enough times that Braza was not openly acknowledged as matchless.

Saigiri—beautiful, stunningly fierce Saigiri, one of their four greatest warriors and matchless with a spear—thought they were both ridiculous. She twisted up her long black hair and shot Braza ugly looks when he was scowling at being beaten again.

But Saigiri was not concerned with the rank she acquired from her feats. She was neither godstouched nor royal, a parashat of the Meijhot, devoted to their death goddess Ilis from her birth. It didn't mean anything to her people when she rose or she fell.

"Idiot aranat," she said quietly in that death-soft voice of hers, too gentle to match her personality.

But she still chose to battle dance with Braza, take cup with Braza in the meal hall, and call for his sun magic to burn bright and blind their enemies when she danced with her spear in battle. Saigiri gloried in the strength of her companions, never taking thought for whose name was shouted on the people's tongues.

* * *

He hated Kier-Dan because when he arrived at Kawusert at six years old, his older half brother had introduced him in passing to a handful of the other students by waving a hand in their direction—the left hand, an insult—and said, "Meijhot tribute,"—in reference to Saigiri and, "The Haijarin tribute."

That at Kier-Dan, five years old at the time, small but already smoldering like fire in his bronze skin and bronze hair and eyes like dark flames. At Kier-Dan who curled his lip and muttered back, "Aranat tribute."

He didn't use the neutral term Braza's brother had used. He used the one that meant tribute given before one had been conquered, in the hopes of staving off true defeat. A coward's tribute.

Braza didn't think, didn't pause to notice his older brother's harsh laugh, just rode his anger and threw a fist at Kier-Dan.

Kier-Dan caught it, twisted his hand, and threw Braza to the ground like it was nothing.

Braza stared up at him and seethed. Kier-Dan stared down at him as if he were nothing, no different from any of the rest of them.

Tribute.

He wasn't even wrong.

* * *

Karkil avoided all the crowds with the ease of long experience, slipping into the Fortress with her archers before dawn, without sending sufficient word of her arrival in advance to gather one in the first place.

"Sneaking in as usual," Braza's right hand Denebir said with a laugh when she appeared at the pre-exercise wash.

Karkil stiffened and snarled. "Are you calling me a coward?"

Braza wasn't much known for sparing his men their own share of troubles, and he'd never been inclined to save anyone from Karkil's righteous sunborn wrath when it awakened. She was tiny, golden, and rippling muscle from shoulder to calf, the finest archer alive.

"She'll slaughter you on the sands," he commented.

"You underestimate me," Denebir cried, thumping a hand to his chest.

"You underestimate Karkil."

The battle dance was where they honed their skills, stretching early, then taking to the sands to practice with and without magic, with and without weaponry. Karkil was sunborn but no godstouched mage. Denebir wielded the sun in the gauntlets at his wrist and had defeated hundreds. Braza only grinned when he took place near the ring to watch.

By time he'd raised his hands to the sun, she had him pinned with two knives in his sleeves, her knee to his groin, an arm to his throat, and the other arm lifted in a withheld lethal strike. Her bow remained with the other weapons not yet taken down for dancing.

Denebir swore and surrendered with what pride was left him—not much.

A soft sound of disgust brought Karkil and Braza looking toward the portico.

Saigiri had clearly avoided the crowds as well, though Braza had to wonder how she'd managed it. "A real fight," she said, looking pointedly toward Braza and Kier-Dan near him.

Kier-Dan looked bored but shrugged in agreement, slipping his gauntlets into place and sending a questioning glance toward Braza.

Braza would never hesitate to fight Kier-Dan. "Bring it, parashat."

* * *

He hated Kier-Dan because when he went in the baths for the first time, there was the little boy, like barely contained copper fire, sitting in the best spot, steam swirling around him that didn't entirely come from the waters.

"The sun will always be stronger than fire," Braza's brother commented. "And gold more valuable than bronze."

Kier-Dan looked at them both under the fringe of his hair, narrow-eyed, face without expression. He closed his eyes again and ignored them both.

The next morning, his was the only name commended in the starting battle dances. His was the only name called in praise by Braza's first teacher. Because Kier-Dan could fight already, and everyone else was trying to catch up.

Braza fought for every rank and merit he earned. He strengthened his body so Kier-Dan would have to _fight_ to ever throw him again. He strengthened his skills with spear and sword and gauntlet and howler, learned sun magic and light weapons, strategy and command. He became the best and excelled at every form of combat he undertook.

It galled him that he shared the position of "best" with someone like Kier-Dan, who never looked at him unprovoked, but rivalled him in all things they both studied. That from the first year they both took to the battle sands, Kier-Dan and Braza split the first cup in meal hall time after time. This day it was Braza honored as first. That day it was Kier-Dan. It took several years for Saigiri and Karkil to begin claiming it, and neither were godstouched.

* * *

Kier-Dan was unaffected by sunheat but could be blinded by sunbright as easily as any other. Braza didn't hesitate to use what advantages he had, casting light into his opponent's eyes. Kier-Dan dropped unhesitating and would have swept Braza's legs out from under him, had he not anticipated and turned aside.

They fought skin on skin, wrist on wrist, fist on fist, kick and leg and parry and grapple and tumble and strangle. In the end, Braza barely won, mouth wide, teeth gritted with blood and dirt, and Kier-Dan stood afterward, panting but unbroken. He rarely used fire magic in a battle dance, and they'd all learned he wouldn't answer why if asked.

Braza hated that. He hated that he could never be certain of his victory when Kier-Dan refused to fight with all his power and life.

* * *

They'd all come from Kawusert. They were the high ones, sworn to the duty of the crown, a ready pool of counselors and commanders to fill the ranks of the elite with those trusted by the Greater Prince who studied among them and befriended them.

There were five Legendary Generals who ruled over all the armed forces of the Four Suns, four who grew old and one who was young. Those who would take those places had to be stronger than strong and greater than great. They had to be legends.

Saigiri slew a thousand men on one spear and conquered the Three Cities before she'd made High Commander. Karkil rained flaming arrows from sea and sky and captured the fleet of the Merchant Empire, then razed its thirty-one cities to the earth. Kier-Dan harvested his enemy's fields as they were shut up in their cities, then overnight, the lands were scorched and burnt to nothing. His command rose refreshed and strong in the morning and burnt the walls and took their cities. "He's a godstouched fireborn," whispered the people of the Empire. It should have been obvious already, Braza thought.

Braza learned to wield the sun. He cast its light bright enough to blind watchers at their posts and charges on the battlefield. He brought darkness over all the surrounding land by hiding its light and cast shadows where he willed. He burnt armies and houses and great walls and dried up moats, then took sword and spear and finished the job with his own two hands. There was no other sunborn mage among the Low Commanders when he began to rise, and no one conquered so many of their neighbors among his rank.

* * *

_"Oh, Nakor, you do grow bold." His niece stared at him with blazing displeasure._

_"You know why I've done this," he answered petulantly._

_"To end all their petty wars between each other," answered his mother. "You would make them one people."_

_"And yet there is only more war," his niece answered again. "Does the sun see an _end_ to all of this?"_

_But of course, the sunborn had founded an empire and only conquered more and more, swallowing every squabbling tribe and nation around them, swallowing their children and making warriors of them._

_"If you're going to conquer the world," Mehut added with a scowl, "the least you could do is abolish slavery." Mehut's power was found in freedom and flight, and with every conquest, there was less of it._

_Ilis shook out her grey robes, swirling with power. The grass around her feet died. "You take and take, brother. What have you given us back?"_

* * *

Crops died in the fields. Harvests burned with no enemy upon their heels to conquer. Rains failed to pour from the heavens. Clouds covered the sun.

After such victories as brought by their High Commanders, the sunborn peoples were afraid. This should have brought the pleasure of the gods, not otherwise. The Greater Queen could be seen making oblations in the High Temples all over Granavak.

Then rains finally came and washed away what was left of the crops, breaking down walls and houses in the extremity of the flood. The gods were angry.

Salathos, the Lesser Queen of the Four Suns, went to her husband the king with a suggested appeasement. Then she sent for her son out of the Fortress within the city.

* * *

The Lesser Queen, Salathos, never did anything without more than one reason, not even bathe. She always had practical reasons for her decisions, as well as political and social. That was why she'd become Lesser Queen.

Braza knew when he entered her presence in her house his father the King had built her, that this was no exception and there would be plenty of traps laid throughout whatever she had planned.

"The gods are angry and must be appeased," she said simply. "They have brought us victories and we have not sufficiently honored the parashat commanders." Or honored them at all, but for the fetes of the people and the rising of the ranks. But that was the acknowledgement of military and populace, something the royal houses benevolently presided over but did not partake in.

Braza had considered the nature of the curses against the land. It had occurred to him that perhaps the gods of the people they conquered were less than pleased by their treatment. Only in the military were they generally given equal rank. He gestured impatiently for her to go on.

Salathos allowed it without visible displeasure. He hadn't inherited his temper from her. "Kier-Dan commands too many of the hearts of the people. He grows more powerful."

"So? Saigiri is also parashat," Braza pointed out. Not Karkil. Karkil was sunborn, wed young, got herself an heir, then went sterile to more easily devote herself to her archery and to command. But for the parades and the festivals, none of them had been honored but Braza, because he sat in the royal house at the proper times and seasons and partook of dinners and royal parties that preferred him fighting to politicking.

"They have yet to receive any of the traditional honors," his mother pressed on regardless. "We have waited too long."

The _traditional_ honors. Braza was thunderstruck for a moment. Saigiri's death goddess demanded vows of chastity and discipline. "Saigiri cannot marry."

His mother glanced back at him. "Of course not. She'll be given a fine land grant, worthy of the nobility, and raised in rank."

A non-traditional honor but a potentially acceptable substitute. So this was all really about, "And Kier-Dan."

"The traditional honor is marriage and title," Salathos stated quietly.

Braza sucked in his breath. To give a Haijarin the royal earring would be astounding honor, promoting him into the First Circle of the Royal House, making him royalty himself. There were two ways to raise one's rank in the Land of the Four Suns, by marriage and politics or by war. But it would also be grave insult to a Haijarin, a bit in his mouth, and he would lose face in the eyes of his own people. For the first time in his life and a career built solidly on outperforming every other member of the troops he'd fought in, Kier-Dan would be conquered.

"You're telling me this." Braza was no fool. He clenched his jaw as he stared into his mother's coolly calculating eyes.

She may have been the Lesser Queen, but she had fought her way to that position from a House of Concubines and ruled far more of the court than the Greater Queen could hope to sway. "Because I want him to marry you."

The Lesser Prince was a threat to the Greater and often went into war to separate his path from the one leading to the throne. This would make him less of a threat still, with no likely heir to be had from the union, until he took female concubines. His mother would not look down on a concubine should heirs be needed later.

"His victories would no longer be his alone," she said.

"I don't want _his_ victories," Braza hissed back at her.

"Nevertheless." His anger had never moved her when she'd made a decision. It would not avail now.

He swore, darkly, in every tongue he knew the ugly words of. He swore and stood there, undismissed until finally his mother nodded and he could storm away, slamming the golden door behind him.

* * *

Gods, he didn't want Kier-Dan's victories. He wanted his own. He wanted blood under his hands and golden sunlight in his mouth and an army to wield and the title of Legendary on his shoulder. He didn't want to be a tool of his mother in her aims. He didn't want the throne.

Braza shot sunbolt after sunbolt into targets, tore strawmen asunder with every weapon easily to hand, danced battle with the first one willing, left him bruised and groaning then found no takers for another battle. He shut himself in his quarters in the Fortress and put a rein on his temper. He plotted the conquest of Areshesh and waited until a small messenger boy brought him the royal notice from the palace of the great feast they would hold to honor their foreignborn commanders, both high and low.

Karkil would likely scoff at her exclusion, secretly relieved no one would force her to endure it but as a guest to her companions' honor.

Braza noted the time of the gathering, then dropped the note in the fire.

* * *

The congratulations were raucous by the time they reached the last to honor. It had been well handled, Braza thought sourly. Kier-Dan deserved the highest honor so they'd saved him to last.

By the time they'd gotten through honors and ranks befitting the Low Commanders and Saigiri's new land, there was also no certain predicting a welcome into the royal family. Not unless you were aranat. To do less would not be honoring the gods, but flaunting their denial in the face of them.

The congratulations for Kier-Dan were no less than for the others. Some offered greater surprise, greater pleasure or jealousy for there were only two ways of advancing rank in this godstouched land, and marriage into the First Circle of the Royal Family was much to be desired.

Kier-Dan listened, face like a stone, made proper obeisance and words of gratitude, then went out from the court.

* * *

Braza wasn't entirely sure what made him follow. But he did follow to see Kier-Dan's uncompromising back as he slipped into a quiet antechamber where stewards politely ignored those who lost the full control over their emotions after a royal decree.

Every fiery highlight in Kier-Dan's color glowed livid red as he whirled on Braza, anger flaring in his eyes. The word he spat was incomprehensible.

Braza blinked then realized that was because it was Haijarin. Braza had his own temper but he had already exhausted his on this. "You don't have to accept," he said calmly, not sure whether he wanted Kier-Dan to reject him or not, considering all the factors.

But Kier-Dan only scoffed. "Reject the offering to appease _my_ gods? You anarat do love your traps."

He seethed for moments more, the air in the small room heating to an unnatural degree. "If you dance battle with me between now and the wedding, I will slaughter you," he said viciously, and he did not mean it in jest.

It struck Braza hard. Braza wanted badly to see Kier-Dan fighting all out, nothing held back, to test himself against that strength. In the end, he didn't. He knew better than to risk his life without purpose to the sands.

* * *

It was a royal wedding and thus a public affair. There were public feasts for three days, a royal palanquin both of them hated to be aired in, and long silences to endure from each other as every eye and ear was turned their way.

Just because Braza was the Lesser Prince did not make him a matter of no importance in the court at the times his presence was required. He had always bound himself to the military, and that saved him much of the political scrutiny they both now underwent. But a marriage was the founding of a house, and a house had potential a mere commander did not. Kier-Dan's own family was inquired into, and he left it at admission he'd been educated at Kawusert.

It made him socially inept in the ways anarat nobility preferred, his unwillingness to dally in alliance-making. When Braza put the ruby ring in his ear, it made him the lesser spouse in the eyes of the parashat. Salathos had certainly planned this well.

Even so, the floods had eased, the late crops flourished, and when Saigiri conquered the Areshesh and gave it to them for a wedding gift, all could see the gods had removed their wrath from the land.

* * *

He may have been conquered in marriage, but he was not conquered in bed.

Braza had devoted little time or energy or attention to sex through the years of training or battling in the field or eventually commanding. It was inappropriate to solicit sex with those not one's peers within the military, and he'd avoided anyone outside of the military as much as he found possible.

Somehow he doubted the same could be said for Kier-Dan.

Kier-Dan wrestled with him for dominance, and this time he did not lose. He bit down hard on Braza's neck, making Braza swear at the pain, but then there were kisses behind it, lighting up his nerve endings, and that was wrong on so many levels, he tried to throw Kier-Dan off again.

Kier-Dan pressed him down and growled. "You already put the bit in my ear. You're not taking this too."

It didn't take long at all for that to sink in, but Braza hadn't exactly been anticipating consummation at all, let alone as the _receiving_ party. "We don't have to consummate at all," Braza said roughly.

Kier-Dan didn't lessen his hold but he did pull his head up and breathe out what could only be called a laugh. "Only the anarat." His skin was still burning to the touch, anger a live thing in his body, if not his voice.

"I'm not ignorant," Braza growled back.

"This is an offering to the rihaleri _gods_," Kier-Dan reminded him, another swear word in his own language. "They're going to know if we don't."

Braza blinked upward and swore back. He hadn't really thought about that. He hadn't thought about that at all. Because to his mother, this was a political opportunity impossible to go without exploiting. To the gods, he had no idea what this was.

"To not marry a commander like you to a member of the First Circle would be an insult to both your gods and mine," Braza pointed out. It's how they would have honored a sunborn.

Kier-Dan narrowed his eyes as he looked at Braza for a long moment. "Shut up." Then he leaned down and shut him up with his mouth.

Braza stopped arguing, mostly tried to stop fighting, but Kier-Dan was rough and relentless, hands going places that left Braza breathless. He was so physically _hot_ and yet it just made every rough bite and bruising grip and thrust more intense. It wasn't comfortable, but it lit off every sense and all the energy in his body as if they were in battle.

Finally, Kier-Dan collapsed onto his back, panting quietly, looking not so much satisfied, but more as if he'd just finished bruising and being bruised in battle dance. Which in a way, he had. Braza's neck still ached from that first bite.

"You're an animal," Braza growled.

Kier-Dan laughed, a surprisingly soft, open sound. Then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Braza stared at his back incredulously for a long time before finally staring at the ceiling until sleep took him too.

* * *

Three days feasting, one week wedding leave from duties. They were both going to be tearing the walls down if they were stuck with only each other for that long.

* * *

Saigiri's eyebrows came up when she saw the angry bruise covering half of Braza's neck. Kier-Dan ignored the pointed look Karkil sent in his direction. The ruby ring in his ear flashed in the light. Conflicting signals. Not something Braza had actually considered before.

Of course.

"Shouldn't you lovebirds be off," Karkil said with the appropriate shooing gesturing, "lovebirding."

Kier-Dan scoffed right as Braza snorted disbelief.

Saigiri laughed beneath her breath, then raised a spear.

Kier-Dan lifted his before Braza could reach his. It glowed red.

She grinned back at him.

They danced on the sands, spear on spear, fireborn heat on nothing but Saigiri's inhuman speed and reflexes. Kier-Dan had tightly contained all of the anger into intensity and economy of motion, ruthless battle. Were they but younglings again, he would have taken first cup.

Braza danced with Karkil after. He'd have to rub out a dozen bruises from her bow-strengthened muscles. He reveled in it, fought for her, brought her down on the sands at last.

Some things hadn't changed.

They all turned around and put their men through training hell.

* * *

"Will you cover me like a wolf?" Braza demanded, brazen and harshly amused.

Kier-Dan dragged his head back and up by his hair, and it hurt and it didn't really bother Braza that that's why it felt good. He'd never considered before this whole farce of a marriage that he might actually _like_ the spark and push and pull of going up against Kier-Dan when it felt like both of them were fighting.

Kier-Dan's skin burned hotter even as Braza's burned brighter.

"You're not humiliating me. It's not a disgrace to the anarat." Braza always thought the honor of the Haijarin made little sense to him, and now he was certain of it.

"Then you can choke on it," Kier-Dan said viciously.

Braza growled, surprised to realize he wanted to.

That made Kier-Dan pause. He let Braza up enough to turn over onto his back, which was better. Braza didn't mind the renewed grip in his hair. There was a fiery gleam in Kier-Dan's eyes but he was very very still as if deciding whether he wanted to deny Braza or himself.

Braza grinned. "You got a problem with that, parashat?"

Kier-Dan leaned down and it was more of a bite than a kiss, teeth on teeth, tongue sweeping his mouth and every drop of blood from the rough treatment. "I'm Kier-Dan, not Kier-Rash. Don't forget that."

"Why would I know your tongue, Haijarin?" The faint curl of condescension Braza always brought to such insults.

"Yet you know my tribe," Kier-Dan murmured so low he'd barely heard it. A faint smile crossed his lips. He looked like he'd kiss Braza again, but he didn't. He shoved Braza's head at the right height and angle and for a second, Braza thought he _would_ choke on it with how hard Kier-Dan thrust into his mouth.

He found a rhythm and knew he had it right when Kier-Dan hissed pleasure between his teeth.

It was too much, not enough, new and still burning hot. He didn't mind the roughness—he'd had worse from battlefields—and there was compensation in the strained sound of Kier-Dan's voice and breath as he managed barely to not come apart.

Then Kier-Dan was pushing him back, dragging him up with an iron grip, and kissing him like he hadn't before.

He kissed sensuously, like he actually meant it, lingering over Braza's mouth like he was enjoying the taste of it. His fingers came up and gripped his jaw, pulled him closer, their bodies finding friction. Braza's hand slid downward and Kier-Dan didn't shove him, didn't force the issue to dominate. It made him feel heady and lightheaded, or that was the fact that they were barely breathing, just chasing kiss after kiss, nipping and licking at the blood it brought.

Kier-Dan's breath was harsh between each kiss, his hair brushing Braza's eyes and getting in the way, but neither of them stopped to fix it, didn't even bother lining up to join properly, too intent on the chafe and press of their bodies exactly as they were.

Braza groaned as he spilled between them—first.

Kier-Dan pulled back just enough to grin before biting down on Braza's shoulder as he shuddered through his own climax.

Braza viciously kept his hand moving through it and past the end just to watch Kier-Dan lose himself in it.

* * *

"Clearly, he's both rough in bed and good in bed," Karkil commented comfortably after carefully examining Braza from her seat at the commanders table in the meal hall.

Braza scoffed and sat. "How's that?"

Karkil shoved a platter his direction. "You're only required to consummate once, and those teeth marks are new."

It took all Braza's discipline not to reach up to find the new mark with his hand. Instead, he made himself shrug. "Some bruises don't show up right away."

The look Karkil gave him could have smelted metal. "Good in bed," she repeated. "Careful though. That kind's the jealous kind."

Braza just groaned. "And how's that?"

"Trust me. I'm wed," she reminded him. "You're new-wed. Listen to your wisers and betters."

He stuffed his mouth with bread before he said something she'd take him to the sands for.

* * *

Karkil wasn't wrong. Kier-Dan was ridiculously good in bed, and Braza really needed to even the score out at some point.

After another breathless round and leaving enough red welts and bruising kisses to consider the favor returned, Braza decided keeping the score even could wait until after the new-wed period.

Instead, he opened up a different conversation. "Old Sero's going to the Varhas Mountains against the Eternal Emperor."

Kier-Dan drew a sharp breath. Old Sero was first among the Legendary. He'd once swept across the maritime trader tribes that preceded the Merchant Empire and established primacy over all the seas, taking seaports and trade routes in a single season.

The so-called Eternal Emperor had repelled every attack of the Four Suns since the founding of their empire. It was a campaign to forge legends.

Braza knew he was hooked. "I heard you once razed the entire arable acreage of the Suhan with one strike of the gauntlet."

Fireborn. Kier-Dan had rarely shown what the barely contained fire of his body was truly capable of.

He kept his counsel now, face neutral. "I heard you once blinded every watcher on the wall of the Bastor permanently and smelted their cannons."

They were both deadly, both tense as they considered the meaning behind their probing words.

"He might not take more than one High Commander besides his favorites," Braza finally said.

"That's what's bothering you." That look of disgust Kier-Dan had always managed so easily. "We're all of us going to be Legendary, Braza."

Braza narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't care."

"Why should I care about _you?"_ Kier-Dan demanded, a livid flare of red along his flank. 

Braza traced over it with his fingers and wasn't batted away. He made himself speak quietly. "We split first cup how many times? We were always rivals for first."

Kier-Dan stared down at him for a long time. Finally, he asked, "And who else took first cup those years?"

Not often, but they certainly _had._ "Saigiri. Karkil." Braza shrugged. "They're not godstouched."

That mattered in the way rankings added up.

"Who but the godstouched could slay a thousand men on one spear?" Kier-Dan looked incredulous. "Just because we do not understand their magic does not make it less magic." He dropped down to the bed to lie beside Braza, his body heat calming to something just above someone normal's. "You want to be first among the Legendary," he said in a quietly calculating tone.

"Don't you?" Braza retorted harshly. "You're angry about this marriage."

Kier-Dan's eyes narrowed. "I would never insult a Haijarin by marrying Rash."

Braza paused, memory flying backward to the comment of a previous night. "So your name's Kier?" He'd never asked what Kier-Dan's social ranking was among his own people.

Kier-Dan scoffed. "Now you ask."

"And what of people in love? Don't they ever marry outside their level?" Braza persisted.

"They work their way to the level they want to marry in," Kier-Dan replied. "Before they marry."

"No one can just work their way into a rank."

Kier-Dan raised an eyebrow. He'd done as much in the military, but that was the military.

Braza let it go. He knew nothing about the Haijarin but that they were parashat, they were fireborn, and the things that mattered to their sense of honor were ridiculous. "So what are you?"

"Dan."

Braza gave him a look.

Kier-Dan sighed, worked his head back into the pillow. "My grandfather is the ruler over all the Haijarin." The calm was deceptive. Red flared under his skin, burned under his hair.

He wasn't treated anything like his rank.

Braza was stunned. He didn't say anything at all for a long while. "You're of the first circle."

"Yes."

But it wouldn't have mattered because first circle or not, he was parashat, foreignborn, and the sunborn were terrible at acknowledging anyone else as their equal.

"You never say anything," Braza pointed out, barely noting Kier-Dan's eyes opening halfway to study him. That slow, intense silence had always hidden anger he realized. And why was he saying it now?

After a long pause, long enough to tell Braza had no more to add, Kier-Dan finally answered. "And then where would I be? They'd blame it on my parsht'ha blood and hold me back."

Unacceptable. Braza had always wanted to see Kier-Dan utterly unrestrained, but he wasn't wrong. Braza could have a fit of temper and that's all it was. Parashat couldn't and still rise the way Kier-Dan had.

"Do you want to express your anger?" he asked.

But Kier-Dan surprised him. "No." He exhaled, gestured dismissively. "Only anger harnessed is good for anything." He looked so tired, like he had taken down his guard he wore everywhere else. Or removed the gauntlets that harnessed his power.

Braza let his gaze wander down to where they usually sat. An angry scar stopped right at the gauntlet's upper boundary, then the skin beneath was unmarred, but shaded darker than the skin above and below. He'd viewed Kier-Dan as his rival for so long, and he didn't really see that changing. But he didn't hate him.

"You really think we'll all be legendary," he commented.

Kier-Dan didn't even open his eyes. "Who else? Of course, you won't be first up then, not until Shahadiar dies and then you'll be old." His mouth curved upward. "There's always someone in front."

Braza scowled. "I want to be first."

Kier-Dan opened his eyes then, looking amused. "You have your wish, hazari."

Braza glared at him. "I do not speak your language."

"I thought you didn't need to."

Braza swore, frustration rising into anger. "I'll kill you."

"How?" Kier-Dan laughed outright. "By biting down next time you suck my cock?"

Braza's answering growl didn't lessen Kier-Dan's humor, but finally, he did answer. "Hazari is atrit." First spouse. The position Kier-Dan had been forced to cede to Braza, by the rules of the sunborn.

"You're terrible." Braza settled back beside him.

Kier-Dan agreed readily. "All legends are."

It's all Braza wanted, had ever wanted. But... "The Lesser Queen," he said quietly.

"Yes, your mother wants to use me as a tool to put you on the throne," Kier-Dan cut him off, just as dismissively as before. "And you just want to be Legendary. We'll dance that battle when we reach those sands."

The displeasure in his tone implied the words he did not say. Can we sleep now?

Braza curled around him, like Kier-Dan needed it. He didn't. But he sank back into the embrace like for the first time since they wed, he didn't mind.


End file.
